


il confessionale

by peacefrog



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: s03e02 Primavera, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Past the rows of empty pews, Will slipped into the middle compartment of the confessional, its door falling shut like a coffin. He sat there for endless moments in silence, eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	il confessionale

Will’s shoes clicked against the mosaic stone floor, footfalls shooting echoes past towering columns and off the frescoed walls. Shadows like smoke dripped from darkened corners and danced beneath his feet. The chapel, still and empty, brimmed and spilled with the ghosts of memories, their presence real enough to choke.

He could still smell Abigail’s blood in the air, sweet and dark, and feel the fog of it warm on his fingers.

Past the rows of empty pews, Will slipped into the middle compartment of the confessional, its door falling shut like a coffin. He sat there for endless moments in silence, eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be dead. 

The creak of the door on the other side pulled him from his trance. Will slid the screen open blind, not needing to glance through the lattice to know the penitent he would find.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” Hannibal’s voice dripped like honey through the partition. “I don’t believe I’ve spoken those words before.”

Will kept his eyes trained forward, on the smooth woodgrain of the door. “I don’t believe you believe in the concept of sinner nor sin.”

“You know me well,” Hannibal drawled. His voice felt too small for their circumstance, too soft for their plight.

“Perhaps not well enough.”

In the corner of Will’s eye, Hannibal’s blurry form began to shift. “Here we sit, in the foyer of my mind. You knew exactly where to find me.”

Will sighed deep. “You knew exactly where I would come to find you.”

“What will you do, now that your mission is complete?”

Will stared down at his hands. He clasped them tightly together, his fingers cold as ice. “I’ve been curious about that myself.”

Shadows moved across the screen, and Will finally dared a look. He was met with the sight of Hannibal’s palm pressed against the lattice, reverent. Their eyes met in the empty spaces. Will’s stomach lurched and dropped down to his feet.

“I forgive you,” Will said, though it was barely more than a whisper.

His hand met Hannibal’s against the partition, warm skin trembling and quivering between the cracks. The contact was so momentary, so fleeting, Will wondered if it had happened at all after Hannibal stole his touch away.

Will turned his eyes back to the door and slid the screen shut beside him, blackness swallowing Hannibal’s presence whole. All movement stilled, perhaps even his breathing, the only sound in the whole world the slow whine of the confessional door.

Will sat in his confessional tomb long after Hannibal had gone, fielding whispers of the dead, carefully balancing his own forgiveness.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com)!


End file.
